At the Wall
by starrysky7
Summary: It had been nearly two years since Jon had laid eyes on her, in the courtyard of Winterfell. Her eyes were sad that day, and still looked to be sorrowful.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **This is a part of a series of one-shots, the order of which you can find on my profile. This will itself be a series of one-shots of Layla's time at the wall**

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It had been nearly two years since Jon had laid eyes on her, in the courtyard of Winterfell. Her eyes were sad that day, and still looked to be sorrowful. Perhaps when she looked at him, she was reminded of Robb. Maybe she wished it was Robb standing before her instead.

When his name fell from her lips, he was pulled from his memory, and forced to properly take her in. She looked paler than he remembered, skinnier even though her stomach swelled with a child. With his niece or nephew, the heir to the North. Clearly, the months since Robb's death had not been kind to her.

Without warning she had crossed the courtyard, much faster than he had expected her to be capable of in such a state, stopping within arm's reach of him. For a second, all they did was stare at one another, before she practically flung herself into his chest, as much as her belly would allow. It was a moment before he reacted, wrapping his own arms around her.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she whispered into his shirt

"Neither did I."

It seemed that theirs was not the only reunion, for the two wolves had leapt at each other, tussling together. Jon was glad that at least Ghost could see his sibling, and even more grateful for the wolf's survival. For he knew that Greywind would protect her just as fiercely as his master.

The embrace did not last long, being interrupted by the arrival of one of Stannis' knights to inform them the king required her presence. Demanded more like it, he thought, though he obliged, leading the group to the quarters of the king.

The group that Layla had arrived with was an odd mix. Many were Northern knights pledged to House Flint, others were servants and small folk that had fled the Bolton's retribution, but it was the rest of the group that interested Jon.

Behind Layla stood two women, both which much darker skin than any he had ever seen. One had long hair in tight braids, which flowed over her red cape stitched with feathers, whilst the other's hair was closely cropped in a boyish style, her own cape stitched with green feathers.

"This is Lady Layla of House Stark," the knight announced, "Lady Layla, this is,"

"I know who he is," Layla interrupted, mustering her most courteous smile as she stepped forward, "It is an honour to meet you, Your Grace. I would kneel, but my current status does not allow for such movement."

"I am to take it the child is your husband's?"

"Yes." She answered, though Jon knew that even the question pained her, "This child is Robb Stark's trueborn heir."

"And do you plan to crown the child once it is born?" Stannis asked, "Because I will not allow it."

"My child's birthright is to the Northern seat," she said, "I care not for a crown."

"And who are your companions?" Stannis demanded

"I am Zosa Daxas, of the Summer Isles, captain of the swan ship The Hawk." Said the woman with braids, stepping forward with utter confindence, extending a hand out to the other woman, "This is Taralla Xaros, my second mate."

"And why are you here?"

The woman, Zosa, did not seem to enjoy the questions. Though her hardened expression gave the impression she enjoyed very little. She was taller than Layla, though Jon could not get a clear view of her build as she was hidden under many furs. He supposed the Wall must seem awfully cold compared to her home.

"Layla asked for safe passage to the Wall."

"Then why did you not simply drop her at Eastwatch?" Stannis asked, "Why come to Castle Black?"

"To fight." Zosa replied, casually, turning towards Layla, "We will help take back the North for your child."

This profession of loyalty seemed to conflict Layla, and trouble Stannis, for neither seemed at ease with the situation. Why these women were so loyal to Layla, Jon knew not, just as he knew very little about her past.

"And how many men can you give me?" Stannis asked, to which Zosa raised an eyebrow, and Jon thought she would not have been so polite in her response had Layla not cast her a warning glance

"I have twenty archers on my ship docked at Eastwatch, my brother has thirty."

"I was told there was five ships docked," Stannis said, "Was I misinformed?"

"No, Your Grace." Layla finally spoke, "The other thre are Braavosi ships under the command of Jorello Nahaenor. He has brought with him a hundred fighting men, as well as supplies."

"And how many men do you have with you?"

"A hundred men that fled Riverrun with me," she replied, "And another hundred from Widow's Watch."

"Am I to assume you wish to pledge your men to my cause?"

"If your cause is to retake the North for the Starks, then my swords are yours." She said, "I pledge the loyalty of House Stark to you, King Stannis Baratheon."

This seemed to placate Stannis, who no longer looked at her with such harsh suspicion, though his gaze was still hardened.

"And who holds Widow's Watch now?"

"Harrion, my step-sons uncle." She said, "He has bent the knee to the Boltons,"

"A traitor." Stannis interrupted, "I will return it to your step-son."

"He is no traitor." She retorted, "He is merely pretending to keep Widow's Watch out of the Bolton's hands, for the Flints have ties to the Hornwood's and Ramsey could make a claim." She explained, "Roose has forced him to send men to fight you, but it is a small number, who will turn to our cause at the nearest chance."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No," she answered, "Your Grace."

But Jon had the distinct feeling that this was not in anyway the truth. Not that he was much surprised, his brother's wife had always lived too comfortably among secrets.

The King jerked his head, and Layla muse have understood that to be her dismissal, for she offered him a quick curtsy before exiting the room, her entourage following closely. But when Jon made to leave, Stannis called out to him.

"My offer to you has changed with the arrival of Lady Stark," Stannis said, "I will legitimise you, and you can wed her, rule the North in her child's name until they come of age."

It was the fulfilment of every dream he had ever had. And he wanted it, even more now. They had both changed since they last saw each other, but Jon still cared deeply for the woman his brother had wedded. Robb would be glad for it, for him looking after his wife and child. _Or he would hate me_ , Jon thought, _for benefitting from his_ _death_.

"I, I cannot." Jon replied, unable to meet the king's hard gaze, "She is my brother's wife."

"She's a widow." Stannis corrected, "And it is most likely she will have to marry again. She's comely enough, I'm sure one of my knights would oblige to sealing that alliance."

"With all due respect, Your Grace," Jon said, "The North would never submit to a Southron as their liege lord."

"It will be difficult to find a Northern lord to wed her to," Stannis pointed out, "Many died for your brother. Most of the lords left are very young or very old. Do you think she would prefer that?"

For a moment Jon almost laughed at the king's stringent belief that Layla would meekly submit to whatever betrothal he arranged. She may not be of the Free Folk, but Stannis would suffer a rude awakening if he attempted to force Layla to do anything she did not want. And even if she agreed to a marriage, if the husband was not to her liking she would kill him in his sleep, and return to widowhood.

"I can't speak to what she wants." Was all Jon said, "If that is all, Your Grace."

Stannis merely grunted, but Jon did not need any further encouragement to scurry from the room. He would be lying if he said this offer was not even more tempting than the last, but there was still no reality in his dreams. It was his brother that she had married, and his brother's child she carried inside her. Jon was nothing but family to her now.

By the time he reached the courtyard four new women had now gathered around Layla, and it was clear by their looks that not were Westerosi. One was tall, much taller than any man, with straight black hair, pale skin and large golden eyes. The second tallest, though around the same height as the average man, with brown skin, and eyes and hair of the darkest black. The one standing closest to Layla was fair, with long silvery blonde hair, blue eyes and delicate features. Jon had never seen a Targaryen, but he imagined they looked much like this woman. The last woman had an unnatural coupling of blonde hair and olive skin, with brown eyes, and scars on each of her cheeks.

It was the one with silver hair that noticed him staring, her eyes locking with his, causing him to blush and avert his eyes. But she had already leaned over to whisper something into Layla's ear, causing her to turn and look at him as well. He would have made to leave, if Layla had not moved to meet him first.

"I bet you've never seen many women that look like them," she said as she reached him, "I'm afraid the cold may get to them, it is a very foreign thing to them indeed."

"Who are they?" He blurted out, not that she seemed to mind him intruding on her friend's privacy

"The tall one's Cai, she's a Lengii warrior. Nesora, the dark one, is Sarnori. They joined Zosa's ship to defend it from slavers." Layla explained, "Mashoni used to be a Volantian slave, that's what the scars are from, she cut the tattoos when she was freed." She continued, "Taenella was also a slave, in Lys. I bought her from her master to free her, but not before she poisoned him."

 _She did not lie when she said they would look foreign to me_ , he thought, for they sure were an anomaly in the North. They even looked out of place, with their excess of furs and constant shivers. Evidently the cold plagued them more than it did their lady, who had taken quickly to the snows, especially for a southerner. _She was a Queen of Winter once_ , he reminded herself, _and she needed to play her part_.

"How long will you stay?" Jon asked, "Until Stannis leaves?"

"Probably longer." She answered, "Even if the babe comes before his departure, I will not be well enough to travel yet."

"I will make sure you're protected until then," he said, "You have my word."

It was a sweet smile she gave him. One of relief. As if a weight was lifting from her shoulders, and he supposed it was. She had spent so long fighting for the survival of her and others, he supposed she relished in having another to rely upon.

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	2. Chapter 2

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With Layla's loyalty secured, and all her swords pledged, Stannis permitted the rest of her companions to join her at Castle Black. Twenty of the Summer Islander archers had come with the initial party, as well as the hundred northerners. The rest consisted of the other thirty Summer Islanders, led by Zosa's brother Talhal, and the Braavosi fighters behind Jorello Nahaenor.

And when they arrived, the Braavosi sellsword loudly called out to an almost gleeful Layla, who looked as if she would have lept into his arms if not for her stomach. They could almost pass as siblings, what with their light brown skin and dark hair. But where Layla's eyes were green, his were brown.

Stannis had not bothered to come and greet the arrivals, and given he did not demand their presence, Jon assumed it was understood that no negotiation of loyalty was necessary. These swords were his to command, though it was with Lady Stark that their true loyalties lay.

Having seen all he needed to see, he turned to move back to the refuge of his quarters, but was stopped when his name was called.

"Jon," she repeated, "This is Jorello Nahaenor, we met in Braavos."

"And introduced me to my lovely wife," Jorello said, "For which I will be forever grateful. Not to mention giving me the money to start my sellsword company."

"And look how it has grown." She said, "I needed only to know who your father was to know it would be a successful business."

"My father was once the First Sword of Braavos," Jorello said, now facing Jon, "And my mother was a Myrenese whore."

"Jorello." She said with disapproval

"My apologies," he replied, "I forgot your distaste of that word. Not that it matters to me. After all, you were the one to tell me that mothers are what they are."

"And the will be what they will be." She finished, turning back to Jon, "If you would be so kind as to direct these men to their quarters."

"Of course." He nodded towards her

A part of him was glad when she did not follow them, though the other part yearned for her presence. He still had not told her of Stannis' offer, and he doubted he would. There was no sense, since it would never come to pass.

Of course, this relief was not lost of the Braavosi.

"Layla told me you were an old friend," Jorello said, "How long have you known her?"

"Not as long as you." He answered, "And probably not as well."

"Ha," Jorello scoffed, "You think anyone really knows her?" He asked, "Everything's a secret with her. Never can get a straight answer about her past."

"I thought you were her friend?"

"I am her friend, and I trust her with my life." Jorello replied, as they reached the quarters he and his men would be residing in, "And I know she trust you with her life, and that of her child's."

The man left him to ponder on those words. Jon knew that his was not wrong, and Layla had entrusted the life of her child to him simply by it being him she sought refuge with. But it was a misplaced trust. _I cannot protect her, not truly_ , he thought, not with his vows preventing his involvement. If Stannis lost, there was no safety he could offer her. The Wall could not be her home, and the Bolton's would not let her and her child live.

 _But she's your responsibility now_ , he reminded himself, _with Robb dead, you're all she has_.

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 **The names of the Essosi characters in this and the previous chapter came from the website: .**


	3. Chapter 3

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It was a cold night, though the brisk air was not what brought her discomfort. The only source of light was the torches, and soon the pyre would illuminate the night. She had chosen a spot further away, so that she could look down on the scene unfolding. One of Stannis' men dragged the so-called King-Beyond-The-Wall. Though she had never had the pleasure of meeting Mance herself, Jon had told her many a tale of the man.

And the pleading, sniveling man before her now cut a much less impressive figure.

But the more she looked at him, the harder it was for her to see. It seemed her attempts to focus her vision only obscured it. Not many there would know what the Lady Melisandre had done, but she did. _This is not Mance_ , she realized, _this is nothing more than an illusion_.

The trickery did not matter to the others, and as she looked down on the wildlings gathered, she could not help but pity them. _They think they're watching their king burn, and can do nothing_. The tales of the ferocious wildlings were shared throughout the North, but they too cut a less than impressive figure.

They were cold and hungry and desperate. _And my people_ , she thought, _if they join Stannis_. The northerners would not take kindly to their inclusion, but she could not allow for them perish. _I will be their champion_ , she told herself, _I will care for them, and save them, and they might come to love me as they do Mance_.

But as she watched them burn their weir wood pieces, she realized she was already failing in her endeavour. Though the Old Gods were not her own, they were the Gods of the Starks. Of her husband and her child.

 _Melisandre is a fool if she thinks they will take so eagerly to the God who burned their king_.

People are loyal to tradition. They do not turn their back on their past. And in a place as desolate as beyond the Wall, there must be many who cling to their Gods.

"You mean to stand behind a king who burns his enemies?" Zosa asked, stepping to stand beside her

Stannis would not be her first choice for king, though she would pretend otherwise. _But what choice did I have_ , she reminded herself. No other would have taken her in, or agreed to fight for her child's birthright. She had considered the Dragon Queen in the East, who had so gallantly engaged in a mission to end slavery, but ultimately thought better of it. Even if Daenerys Targaryen did not immediately kill her for being a Stark, she did not seem close to taking back the Iron Throne, and time was not a luxury she was in possession of.

"I do not have the power to stop him," was all the answer she provided, "Not yet anyway."

For though she held no distaste for the king, she would not hesitate to remove him if he presented himself as an obstacle. He may soon regret taking her in, but she would not stand idly by and let him lead the North to ruin.

"You shouldn't have married a king," Zosa said, "You were much happier before."

But before she could reply, the woman had left her side as quietly as she had appeared. There was truth in her words, Layla knew that. But one could not rewrite their past, as much as they may wish to. She had made her choices, and it was up to her to make peace with their consequences.

The fire left behind the stench of burning wood and flesh. And despite Melisandre's words, it did not smell purifying to her. Her attention turned to Jon, who was now making to leave the scene behind. He had disobeyed Stannis by having Mance shot, but he had showed mercy to the man he once called friend.

 _Mercy_ , she scoffed, _what does Stannis know of mercy_. _He thinks that justice means only punishment_.

Watching Jon leave she wanted nothing more than to follow him, to offer him comfort, to assure him that it was not Mance who burned. But she could not. If Mance lived then it was a part of Melisandre's plans, and she did not want the sorceress to be made aware that she knew of anything she was not supposed. And Jon would surely tell, compelled by honour as he was.

 _No_ , she told herself, _this will be my secret, I will lock it away with all the others_.


	4. Chapter 4

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Layla had taken to walking the battlements at night, and Jon to watching her from afar, Greywind by her side just as he always was. It seemed his brother's direwolf had transferred his allegiance to Robb's widow and unborn child, and for that Jon was grateful. For the Wall was not a safe place for a woman, and Jon had seen his brothers eyes watching her. And why would they not? Being with child had seemingly only enhanced her beauty.

These were treacherous thoughts of his. Ones that involved casting aside his vows to take Stannis's offer. He could have Winterfell until her child came of age. He could marry her, and give her many more Stark children. But that was not to be, a fickle dream he must set aside, for he had his duty.

Even still, he could not help but watch her, unadultered in his attention. She was a beauty, almost otherworldly in her appearance but not as unsettling as Melisandre. And yet, there was a sadness about her, a loneliness perforating her being. All he wanted was to see her smile as carelessly as she once did.

Sometimes he would see one of her companions whisper something in her ear, and he would see that familiar glint in her eyes as she flashed them a grin. Though these moments were few and far between.


	5. Chapter 5

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When Layla had inquired as to the whereabouts of the Lord Commander she was much surprised to learn that he was meeting with the king. Of course, that surprise soon turned to outrage. There was only one reason the king sought Jon's counsel. _And if he plans on marching then he will need my own counsel_ , she thought, _but of course, to him I am nothing more than the false king's widow_.

Harlon attempted to temper her anger, but she ignored his protests. Still, he followed her march to the King's Tower. _He knows I am right_ , she thought, _Stannis has disrespected us with his lack of invitation_.

Arriving at the door, she found two of Stannis' guards hovering outside, blocking her entry.

"Can we help you?" The one she recognised as Ser Godry the Giantslayer, though by the way she heard it the tale was not nearly as impressive told by anyone that wasn't him

"I would like to speak to Stannis," she said, before quickly adding, "Please."

"He's currently indisposed," the one she did not know said, "I am sure you can come back later."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've had the pleasure of being introduced."

And it was a pleasure, for he certainly wasn't hard on the eyes.

"Ser Justin Massey," he answered, smiling sweetly at her, "My lady."

"Well, Ser Justin, let me rephrase my statement." She said, smiling just as sweetly back, "Get out of my way. Right now."

"I hardly think a woman is in any position to threaten us," Ser Godry scoffed, "Especially one heavy with child."

"You'd be surprised." Harlon grumbled behind him, though the southron knight did not heed the warning

"I do not fear -"

But whatever it was that Ser Godry did not fear they would never know, for in one swift movement she had swung her arm to connect her enclosed fist with his jaw. There was a moment of shock as the man stumbled back, before his enraged eyes locked with hers. Before he could even think to react, however, they were interrupted by the opening of the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Stannis demanded

"He would not let me in." Layla replied plainly, not waiting for an invitation to enter, Harlon closing the door behind them,

"And so you thought to hit him?"

"It's not like there's any permanent damage." She shrugged, "Though I do wish to know why Harlon and I were not invited. You are planning how to take back the North, are you not?" She continued, all the while maintaining her pleasant smile, "Or did you. not think we would have any contributions?"

"I certainly did not think you would barge in here unannounced and uninvited." Stannis said, indignantly, "I have half the mind to throw you out."

"Half a mind?"

"If you really think you can be of use, then sit." He ordered, turning back to Jon, who had been careful not to look her way, "Now, continue."

And so Jon continued to explain his plan to the southern king. It was a good plan, she could not deny that, though she doubted Stannis possessed the charisma to win the loyalty of the Mountain Clans. _They loved Ned_ , she reminded herself, _if they know of my child they will fight_.

"They will fight for me, you believe?" Stannis asked

"If you ask them."

"Why should I beg for what is owed to me."

"These men owe you nothing." Layla suddenly spoke, "You demand they risk their lives for you, when you have done nothing to earn their loyalty."

"I am their rightful king."

"Any man can declare himself king, the war should've taught you that." She spat out, "The Northerners will never follow you, if you keep acting like a self-righteous spoilt brat."

She had taken it too far, she knew, but entitlement had never sat well with her. The world certainly hadn't ever owed her anything, and she did not ask it to. You got only what you fought for.

"Careful, girl," Melisandre warned, "That is your king you are speaking to."

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but the lives of myself and my family rest on your victory." She said, once again the regal lady, "Everything I have heard about you led me to believe you would not begrudge me for honesty. And I would not speak so frankly to you if I thought we were not in trusted company."

It seemed the king was almost impressed by that. After all, if her outburst had been anything it was honest. _Good_ , she thought, _then_ _he_ _is the man I thought he_ _was_.

"I could accompany you, Your Grace," Harlon offered, in an attempt to ease the tension, "The Flint's of Widow's Watch are tied by blood to the Flint's of the Mountain Clans. They are my kin, Layla's too. I can help convince them."

Stanniss simply grunted in response, and they all took that as confirmation.

"You mean for him to take Deepwood Motte?" She asked, and Jon nodded grimly, his glance to her lasting barely even a second, "Good. The Ironborn have spent too much time in the North."

As they worked out the finer points, Layla sat and listened, annoyed at her own inability to offer any worthwhile input. Not that Stannis had really given her a chance. _But he would see_ , she thought, _once I have this child the Northern lords will flock to our cause, and then he would not dare to think not to invite me again_.

On her way out she was stopped by Ser Justin Massey, offering to see her hand was taken care of. Even if she did not really need it, he sure had a handsome smile, and it had been so long since a man had smiled at her like that. And he met her eyes, unlike Jon.

"I'm sure I just need some ice," she said as she took his arm, "It's not like there's a shortage here."

Ser Justin led her to the dining hall, sitting her down at one of the tables, taking the seat beside her. He took her wounded hand, examining her knuckles.

"Looks alright to me," he observed, "Slight bruising maybe, but no lasting damage."

"Do you think this is the part where I confess I should not have hit him, and that it was an incredibly unladylike thing to do?" She asked, "Because I'm not going to say that."

"No," he answered, "To be honest, I'm glad that someone did it. He's rather insufferable."

If she was being honest, she found most of the Queen's Men to be rather insufferable. But not this man, he seemed to be one of the better ones. And so she made it her mission to learn about this southern lord who had taken such an interest in her.

"You are a follower of the Red God," she said, "Yes?"

"Yes." He nodded, "And you?"

"I'm not strong in belief," she shrugged, "Though R'hollor has many followers in the east. Tell me, Ser Justin, what do you know of A'sshai?"

"Only that it is the Lady Melisandre's birthplace."

"Well, that is incorrect." She replied, "For there are no children in A'sshai."

"And how is it that you know this?" Ser Justin asked, with light-hearted skepticism, an easy smile on his face

"I once knew a woman who had spent much time in A'sshai," Layla revealed, "She told me that they had all good carried in by barge, for nothing grew there, and they had no livestock. What fish did grow in the rivers were mutated and blind. She said that it was a land of wonders, as well as horrors."

Azeeza had been one of her many guardians in her youth, a maegi in Myr who traded in love potions and healing. Though this was not the extent of her of her powers, for she had learnt much darker magic in the Far East. It was this magic that she used to kill those who enslaved her.

Of course, there was a cost, there was always a cost. For the woman had given the life of her unborn child, so that death may take its father. She had sacrificed her first child so that all others would be born free.

Even now, years later, she remembered the words that Azeeza had told her, the incantation to bring forth death, with almost perfect clarity. Though she had never spoken them herself. Not that it stopped her from reading through the book that Azeeza had gifted her.

 _A book I put to good use_ , she thought, but pushed away reminders of such unpleasant business. _The past was the past_.

"Is that way you are so suspicious of her?"

"I do not distrust her foreign origins," she answered, "Of that you can be sure."

"You are foreign yourself, are you not?" He replied, "I have heard you are Braavosi, but another said Myrenese, what is the truth?"

"I was raised by a Braavosi trader, but he often saw fit to leave me at ports with friends to be cared for." She explained, "He did not think a life at sea was one for a child."

"Raised?" Ser Justin asked, "What of your parents?"

"I have them, as we all do." She answered, "And that is all I will say as to the matter."

Clearly that was not the answer he desired, for he opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut of with her bidding him farewell, thanking him for the kindness he had shown her. From what she gathered he was no fanatic, though perhaps he did smile too much, and she liked not how his eyes had hovered over her breasts which had swelled as her stomach grew. But that was not such a complaint that she would wrong the only ally she had found in Stannis' retinue.

That night she joined the Lord Commander for dinner, apparently he felt badly enough about the events of the day to not scorn her presence. He had been relentless in his avoiding of her since their initial embrace upon her arrival.

"My apologies for Stannis," he said, his eyes trained on the fire, "He should have invited you."

"It is not your fault." She said, "I fear I have much to do to prove myself to our king."

"You are indispensable to him." Jon said, "Your child will give him the North."

And he thought that would be her only contribution, after all, a woman was only worth her womb. _He'll soon see_ , she thought, _when the Northern lords follow my lead and not his_. They were her people, and they loved her.

"What do you know of Ser Justin Massey?" She asked, and Jon finally looked up at her with his perpetual frown

"He's a southern lord, lost his lands during the war." Jon explained, his hands gripped together, "Stannis said he wants to marry you and claim Winterfell."

"Yes," she replied, casting her eyes towards the flames, "I'm sure a great many lords will want that."

Even if he was not as utterly repulsive as the rest of the Queen's Men, it was only power he lusted after. _No man will ever wed me for love now_ , she realised, _it will always be for the power I could give them_. But Ser Justin was fooling himself if he thought he could woo her into wedding a southern lord with no lands. If a man would only marry her for power, than she may as well return the favour.

Though to do so would mean to leave her child behind. She would already be forced to part with Willam and Rickard, whose place was at Widow's Watch. But to remain at Winterfell would mean to yield rule to whoever became her lord husband, and that was not something she planned to ever do.

 _Rickard is young_ , she thought, _I_ _might_ _dare_ _to_ _keep_ _him_ _with_ _me a little longer_. But the brothers would not stand to be parted, that she knew.

"What will you do?" Jon asked, tentatively, and the softness in his voice made her meet his eyes

His face was so open to her, far more than the stoic guard he usually presented. As much as he tried to mask it, she knew he still cared for her. Perhaps that was why he avoided her so, guilt for having even the remotest of feelings for his brother's widow, or simply because they could never be together.

 _It would be so much easier if I could marry you_ , she mused, _the North would take you as their liege lord, and you would raise my child as a true Northerner, and we could grow old together in Winterfell_.

But honour was second nature to Jon. He would not break his oaths for her, not as Robb did.

"I don't know." She admitted, "I know I will have to marry again. The war continues, and alliances are needed." She said, reaching out to grasp his hand, offering him an encouraging smile, "But do not worry for me, fret for the poor man that will have to wed me."

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	6. Chapter 6

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Time trickled away on the Wall, and Stannis grew more and more restless. It was safe at Castle Black, but hiding away would not win Stannis the North, only war would do such a thing. And so she was not surprised when he demanded her presence, alongside Harlon, Jorello and Zosa.

"What does your men consist of?" Stannis asked

"Most are calvary, they fight with swords, some with axes," Jorello said, "Though I do have thirty mounted men, twenty of them archers."

"An archer cannot hope to hit anything when they ride."

"With a normal bow, perhaps." Jorello conceded, "But they carry double-curbed bows, and have some of the best aim I've ever seen."

"And what of these Summer Islander archers?" Stannis asked, "I hear a bow made of the golden heart tree can shoot an arrow four hundred yards."

"It is true." Zosa answered,

"Then I will take all of both your men to Deepwood Motte," Stannis said, turning towards Layla, "How many of your men would you have stay here as your guard?"

"Sixty perhaps," she replied, "The rest will gladly march with you."

"The wolf will stay here as well," Stannis said, "He does not listen to any other than you, I will not have him turn savage in battle and kill our own."

Though Layla knew that Greywind would never do such a thing, she was glad that Stannis did not see him fit to march. For he had spent too long by her side for them to be parted, and she doubted the wolf would take kindly to being ordered to abandon her.

"We march in two days time," Stannis announced, "Ready your men."

They others all solemnly nodded, before filing out of the room, each going their own way to relay the orders. But she remained, and Stannis gave her a questioning look, demanding she reveal why she thought herself above his orders.

"I will join you," she announced, "Aftr the babe is born, as soon as my health permits."

"No." Stannis responded, just as she knew he would, "War is no place for a woman."

"With all due respect, Your Grace, I led my men into battle and fought by their side, until falling with child prevented me from doing so." She said, "I have no intention of doing any less now."

"I will not permit it." He said, "You may join the camp, but that is all."

Layla simply lowered her head, before taking her leave. Stannis could say whatever he wanted, it did not matter to her for she would not listen. It had been too long since she had fought, and she needed to do more than merely watch the North be won.

Whatever peace her men had found at the Wall had been but a fleeting reprieve, for they would soon find themselves back at the mercy of the dogs of war. Not that they seemed to share her unease, many desperate to return to battle to reclaim the North

A part of her did rejoice in Stannis' departure, for she did so loathe his hovering presence. Since his arrival he had made to watch her every movement, and she did not miss how his men watched her, no doubt reporting back to their king. _Or perhaps their priestess_.

But she did not begrudge him his actions, for her had every right to be suspicious of her. If she was in his place she would not be trusting either. She held the key to the North in her womb, and she could quite easily move to crown her child once it was born, and take what little power Stannis had gained.

 _He thinks I plot with the Northern lords_ , she thought, _that is why he will not let me write any letters_.

 _Though he was not wrong in his assumptions_. _I have not told him of what Lord Manderly shared with me_. Her exact reasoning for secrecy was not entirely known to her. Perhaps she had merely grown to comfortable among lies that truths were foreign to her.

These feelings of guilt did not last long, not when Greywind lept from the bed, letting out a growl as he bounded towards the door. Calling out to inquire the identity of the visitor, she was much surprised by her answer.

"Ser Justin," she greeted, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Though the wolf did not deem it a pleasure, considering he watched the man as a hunter watched their prey. _Perhaps he knows of Ser Justin's desire for me_ , she mused, _it seemed Jon was the only man he approved of wanting me_.

"I thought I might bid you farewell now," he replied, "With the preparations for departure, I did not know if I would be able to see you before then."

"But why is it that you wished to say goodbye to me?" She asked, turning her head slightly as she looked up at him, raising her eyebrow, "Dear Ser."

"I wished to look upon your face once more, in case I am so unlucky as to never lay eyes on it again." He explained, "For I have not seen a face of such beauty in my lifetime."

Her lips upturned, as she moved to face her back to him so that he may think her less than caring, "And how many other woman have you professed such things too?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder, "Do not tell me I am the only one whose affections you have sought to entertain."

"To say that would be a lie." He admitted, "And I do not wish to lie to you."

She very much doubted that. _All men are liars_ , she reminded herself, _and they will lie when it suits them, and tell the truth only when it suits them_. Even so, he need not know of her distrust.

"If that is so," she said, pulling her draw open to pluck a handkerchief from it, "Then I think you worthy of this."

"You wish to give me your favour?" He asked, as she pushed it into his hand, "Is that not a bit forward?"

"I wish only to encourage you to safely return," she replied, "I do not wish to lose a new friend."

 _Yes, friend you shall be_ , she thought, _unless it profits me to make you otherwise_.

"I will wear it with pride," he told her, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles, "And safely return it to you."

"Good fortune in your battles." She replied, "We will see each other again soon."

"I look forward to it."

His sweet smile was all he gave her, before he left her once more, with only Greywind's judging gaze upon her. _Am I such a horrid person to enjoy the attention of a man? Does Robb look down upon me in scorn?_

But it mattered not how Robb would judge her actions. He was dead, and she would never receive his attention again, nor hear any of his opinions.

It was a solemn occasion as she gathered with the others in the courtyard, embracing each of her dear friends, who had so valiantly come to her aid. If they were to die fighting for her she would never forgive herself. And Harlon, her good-brother who now embraced his nephews, who had so loyally followed her to war and remained by her side.

 _They will live_ , she told herself, _and we will win_.

Ser Justin flashed her his most charming smile as he mounted his horse, a sight not missed by Jon, and Ser Justin in turn did not miss her glance towards the Lord Commander. If he suspected anything she knew not, for his smile did not falter. _It never does_ , she thought, _it's almost infuriating_.

"They will return." Taenella assured her, linking their arms, "I know it."

"I do too."

Layla was glad that she had requested the woman remain at Castle Black, for she was no warrior, and would better serve as helping her in caring for her child once it was born. And it gave her a companion other than a wolf that did not speak, the sullen Lord Commander, and her young step-sons. Speaking of which, she drew the boys near as they watched their uncle depart, a hand on each of their shoulders.

"You will see him again soon," she said, "I promise."

And she would do everything in her power to keep that promise.


	7. Chapter 7

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It was a dreary day when they set out to Mole's Town, with Jon even more bad-tempered than usual. He had not wanted her to come, but had not stopped her since they first argued over it. It was a battle he would not win, and he knew that, though that did not mean he could not still be unpleasant about it.

The Free Folk looked a sorry lot, but they were slowly warming to her. She spoke to the mothers, and played with the children. When Greywind accompanied her she even picked them up, placing them on his back. She was sure if anyone else did that to him, the wolf would not be so accomodating, but all he ever did was shoot her a glance if what she assumed was annoyance. For her first visit she had brought along Maester Corren, who had so dutifully followed her from Widow's Watch, to heal their wounded. And now many of them, if not outright smiled at her, no longer looked at her with suspicion.

Though not all of them. The Magnar of Thenn still watched her with his cautious gaze, as she watched him with interest. His receding hairline aged him, though she doubted living beyond the Wall promoted youthful looks. She had once thought to speak to him, but he knew little of the Common Tongue, and despite the lessons she had contracted from Val she had not thought herself proficient enough to risk the embarrassment of failing.

Her friendship, however, did little to ease their plight. And she was little surprised when shouting broke out among them, only ending with one of the Night Watchmen blowing the horn, the silence soon filled by Jon. It was a good speech, she had to admit. _He may be overly melancholic_ , she thought, _but he has his moments of charisma_.

It was seemingly enough to convince many, as by the end over seventy of the wildlings were shoved together in the carts, set to return to the Wall. A quick count put it at seventy eight, possibly even more.

"That was a good thing you did, Jon," she said, as they loaded up the rest of the new recruits, "But the Watch will not thank you for it."

"You can't please everyone." He shrugged, "They like you."

 _And they might've fought for me_ , she thought, _had Stannis not promised them to you_. But she could not begrudge Jon for the actions of the king. One could not, after all, control everything others did.

"What you said, about the blushing maidens," she said, "Did you say that because you only want those who can defend themselves?"

"I said that because I need warriors," Jon retorted, "Not fragile ladies who can't look after themselves."

By the look of concern on his face, he certainly has not expected the barking laughter that came from her.

"You truly don't know anything, if you think a woman's worth is based on the weapon in her hands." She mocked, "In this case, yes, fighters are needed. But strength goes far deeper than that. And you need not know how to fight to look after yourself."

The pair did not speak again for the rest of the journey back to Castle Black, and she continued to ignore him upon their arrival. Not that he seemed to mind, for he ignored her all the same.

It had grown lonely at the Wall since the king's departure, not for lack of his presence though. Harlon had gone with him, as well as Zosa and her all her fighters, and though almost a hundred Northmen had remained for her protection, some of them she had offered to for Jon to put to work throughout the day. Taenella was the only friend who remained to her at the Wall, and so she even found herself missing the ever-smiling Ser Justin Massey. Jon had put them up in the King's Fort, filling the space that Stannis had left, and she knew he would be far from pleased if he returned.

 _No, not if_ , she scolded herself, _when_. _He will come back_. _He will win_.

Taenella had insisted upon acting as her ladies maid, and had taken to doing her hair each morning and night. There wasn't much else for her to do, seeing that all her dresses were far too simple to require assistance.

"The Lord Commander still avoiding you?" Taenella asked, as she brushed through Layla's hair

"How do you know?"

"Only men make you this sullen." Taenella explained, "You shouldn't worry. He wants you. Seducing him would not be difficult."

"I do not want to seduce him, Nella," she replied, "That won't get me anywhere, and it won't make either of us happy."

"Staying apart won't make you happy either," Taenella pointed out, "But,"

The words died in her mouth at the sound of a sharp knock on the door, and Layla bid them entry. Some may judge her too trusting for not asking the identity of her visitor first, but if anyone had managed to arrive at her door, disposing of all her guards without making a sound, then they deserved their attempt on her life.

"Excuse me, my lady," Jon greeted, pushing the door open, "I wish to speak to you."

"Of course," Layla replied, nodding towards Taenella to give her leave, the girl curtsying before walking out. She was quickly learning how to survive amongst nobility. "What is it that you wished to speak about?"

"I wanted to apologise for today," he said, "If I offended you, that was not my intent."

"It seems all you've been doing lately is apologising to me." She pointed out, "But never for avoiding me, which I take to mean you will not stop."

"I just thought it would be easier," he explained, "If we kept to our separate ways."

"Easier for who?" She demanded, "What do you think I will do if we spend time together?" She asked, "Trick you into my bed?"

"No my lady." He replied, sheepishly, "I,"

"Oh for God's sake, don't you dare say you're sorry again." She said, exasperated, "Let us be friends, Jon, that's all I want."

"I want that too."

"Well then," she said, "How are things going here?"

"As best as they can be, I suppose." Jon answered, "At least with Stannis gone we have less men to feed."

"It might do to set up trade with the Free Cities," she suggested, "You could sell wood to Braavos in exchange for food."

"Wood?"

"Trees don't grow in Braavos," she explained, "And with winter coming, firewood will be in high demand."

If she had been of no use to Stannis, at least she could be of some use to Jon.

"Was Zosa the one to give you your bow?" Jon asked, "You said it was from the Summer Isles."

"Yes, it was a gift when we parted." Layla replied, "She had wanted me to stay on as an archer on her ship, but I declined the offer. Though I think it was an excuse, for I'm not that great of an archer."

She had declined a great many offers during her travels, many of which she would come to regret. She could have become a trader with Zosa, or a sellsword with Jorello, or married Ser Daemon Sand. But she had done none of those things, always looking for her next adventure, and this path of always wanting more had led her to war.

"Was Zosa the one that taught you archery?"

"I knew the basics, just in case." She replied, "A woman travelling alone must learn to defend herself, after all."

 _And learn to never be unarmed_ , she thought, a habit she had long kept. Even now, there was a knife tucked into each of her boots, another dozen hidden around her room, some of which had also been gifts from her time in Dorne. It seemed the only gifts she could manage to hold on to were weapons, the others lacking practicality in times of war, serving only the purpose of being sold off.

Still, not all of her belongings had been traded for supplies. The crown that Robb had made for her lay in her case, hidden away from any who might deem fit to take it from her. It was all she had left of him, and she'd be damned if she let anyone rob her of it.

"Oh," she winced, and Jon's eyes immediately widened, "No, I'm okay, the babe's kicking is all."

"Kicking?"

"Yes," she nodded, "Would you like to feel it?"

Once he nodded in affirmation, she reached out to take his hand, pressing it against her stomach. Laying her hand over his, she eagerly watched his eyes light up with joy, smiling along with her.

"The babe's strong." He said, "Like its mother."


	8. Chapter 8

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Layla watched on from the window as Jon sparred with the boys, and she was proud that little correction was needed. It had been awhile into their relationship before she attempted to give them any tips on swordplay, afraid they would spurn her help. But under the tutelage of her and Harlon they were growing to be capable warriors. _Their_ _father would be proud_ , she thought to herself, _but he had also asked her to keep them safe and she had made them exiles because of her foolishness_.

She would not fail Roderick now. She would keep her promise. Willam had wished to ride south with Stannis, but she had forbid it much to his displeasure. But he could begrudge her all he wanted, as long as he was alive.

But he was almost a man now, and soon she would not be able to protect him from his own youthful naivety.

Her dread soon turned to sorrow, as she remembered Robb had sparred with them too at Winterfell. They had all been younger then, with less woes. Robb had always promised them they would spar again, but there had been a war to fight and so his promises went unfulfilled. Just as so many of his promises had.

But Robb would never promise her anything again. He would never spar with her sons again, nor the child growing inside her. _Jon would_ , she told herself, _he may speak_ _of_ _the Night's Watch as his only family but he would not turn his back on his fatherless nephew_.

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 **The one-shots Dream's to Come and The King's Heir take place between this chapter and the next. Due to changes I've made in the placing of the events, there will be continuity errors for The King's Heir, which I hope to soon fix.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

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Sitting by the cot, she watched on as her son fell into a peaceful slumber. She had often found herself observing him as he slept, and when he was awake. Only a month old, but growing fast. Moving her hand to gently brush her fingers over his pink cheek. His eyes had remained blue, just as she had hoped. Now she only wanted him to look more like his father as he grew older. Perhaps if her and Robb had more time they could have had a daughter that looked like her, and maybe one that took after Catelyn, and another that looked like Arya.

And though they had only been blessed with one child, he was more than enough for her.

The sharp knock at her door came as no surprise, and nor did the fact that Jon did not wait for permission to enter. It had become a ritual for them since Eddard's birth, he would visit her in the afternoon or night to play with his nephew and tell her of his day. She thought he found comfort in listening ears.

But there was something more plaguing him that night.

"What's wrong?" She asked, "Have you heard word from Stannis?"

"No. Nothing." He replied, "It's, it's Melisandre, I discovered something about her."

"What did she do?" She asked, though she greatly suspected she already knew what this discovery entailed

"She did not burn Mance Rayder." He revealed, confirming her assumption, "She burned Rattleshirt in his place, and now masquerades Mance as him."

Silence followed this revelation, and Jon's eyes grew wide with understanding.

"You already knew." He said, the accusation clear, "How?"

"It's remarkable what one sees when they stop trying so hard to see." She answered, "It is a rather neat trick, I'll give her that."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not wish for further conflict, or to be perceived as undermining Stannis." She explained, though if that was truly the reason she could not say, but it made a convenient excuse, "And it seems that undermining Melisandre is just as if I was undermining Stannis."

"You don't trust her?"

"Of course not, and neither do you." Layla said, "She's a fanatic which makes her both ruthless and righteous, and far too fond of burning people alive for my taste." She explained, "And the way she looks at you,"

"How does she look at me?"

"Like she wants nothing more than for you to be her newest bed companion now that Stannis is gone." She said, distastefully, "She wants you, Jon, what for, I'm not sure but it can't be good."

"I am a man of the nights watch."

"I know." She muttered, her voice soft and sad, and he wondered if maybe she too wished for him to set aside his vows for her

 _But she was Robb's wife_ , he told himself, _she loved Robb not him_. Of course, there was another voice that reminded him of the way she had smiled at him back at Winterfell, laughed at his words the way no other had, of the kiss they shared. He longed to feel those lips again.

The Gods would curse him for this. Desiring his brother's wife, the mother of his nephew. _But she was mine first_ , he thought, _and he took her for his own_.

"No more secrets," Jon finally said, "I need you to trust me."

"You're one of the few I do trust."

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 **I realize that this chapter shifts POV but I wrote Jon's part first, and liked it too much to cut it after I wrote Layla's, hope no one finds it disconjointed**

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 **Response to review from Billy:**

 **Yes, if at this moment Rickon was of a more similar age to Robb she probably would be going for him, and that's the point. She's actively trying to use Jon as a replacement for Robb, and in upcoming chapters they will come to blows over that. Because, like you said, Jon does hold resentment towards Robb and he won't put up with being second best forever.**


	10. Chapter 10

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Another few nights passed, and each night Jon came to her room. Though nothing scandalous had ever occurred, however much she might desire it to be so, tales had begun to spread. She knew his brothers stared whenever they were together, though they were different states than the ones when he was not by her side. And each time she was thankful for the guards and dire wolf that surrounded her, for all the knives she could hide on her person would not save her from hordes of lustful men.

Brutish men who desired nothing more than to violate every inch of her body, to hear her scream and cry and plead and beg. _Never again_ , she swore to herself, _no man will see me cry again, not unless my tears bring them to their knees_.

When the door opened she did not need to look up to know it was Jon, but did so anyway, to find him looking uncannily happy.

"Good news?"

"A letter from Stannis," Jon revealed, "He has taken Deepwood Motte."

Letting out a gleeful laugh, she practically jumped from her chair to fling herself towards him, causing him to stumble back in surprise, but wrap his own arms around her none-the-less.

"We might win this yet." She said, extracting herself from his arms to scoop her son up in her own, "Did you hear that, Ed, the king has thrown out the Ironborn."

"Don't let Edd hear you call him that," Jon teased, "He might think it's after him."

"He'd love to have such an honour." She replied, gently swaying with Eddard in her arms, "How long will it take Stannis to march on Winterfell?"

"Half a month to a month," he answered, "It depends on the weather, longer perhaps."

"But before I will be able to join them."

"You don't need to join Stannis." He told her, "He had five thousand men now, and his numbers grow. He has his commanders. There will be nothing you can do."

"Ha," she scoffed, "Why is it always men who tell me I can do nothing?" She asked, "If time permits I will join Stannis, and I will fight beside my men."

"And what of your son?" Jon asked, "You can hardly take him to the war camp. It is no place for a babe."

 _Who is he to ask on the safety of my child_ , she thought, _he is not Eddard's father, he has no right to presume he has a say_.

"I know that." She retorted, "I will leave him here, Taenella will care for him. And Willam and Rickard will also remain, alongside Maester Corren and men to protect them."

"Then you will have no men to take to Stannis anyway."

It was a valid argument, which only seemed to anger her further. She did not want to pay any mind to his reasonings if they did not support her own.

"I will have supplies." She said, "I will write to my brother in Braavos, tell him to use what remains of my belongings there to buy food and send it across."

 _I am not so useless now_ , she thought, _I will show you and Stannis that I will not be put in the corner and relegated to mother and nothing else_.

"Why are you so intent on going?"

"Why are you so intent on me staying?"

But Jon did not give her an answer, merely clenching his jaw, looking away from her and at her son, who had broken out into cries at the sound of their raised voices. Shushing him as she rocked him in her arms, casting a glare towards Jon. It was not his fault, she knew, but she needed someone to blame other than herself.

"I just want you and Eddard to be safe." He said, softly, his eyes on the floor, "You are safe here."

"Safety's overrated." She replied, offering him a small smile

 _I may forgive him yet if our safety is all he desires_ , she thought, _so long as he does not think to offer protection where it is not needed_. After all, there were very few who wanted them safe purely out of love. The others all desired power for themselves. King Stannis and the Northern lords. _I can only trust Jon and Harlon_ , she reminded herself, _blood binds us, and blood will keep them loyal_.

"Tell me of your day then." She said, turning to place Eddard down on the bed, moving to lay beside him, "Did all go well with the men saying their vows?"

"We ran in to some Free Folk, but they were convinced to join us." Jon said, though he did not join them on the bed, "They brought a giant with them, Wun Wun."

"A giant." She said, her eyes bright with curiosity, "Might I meet him, I've never seen a giant before?" She asked, "Or is it a her? I shouldn't presume to know the naming customs of giants."

"Yes, you may meet him." Jon chuckled, "Though he only speaks the Old Tongue."

"Then I might test out my lessons," she replied, "I fear Val does not give truthful feedback."

"I do not think Val would lie."

 _Not like I would you mean_. But she swallowed the words, along with her jealousy. Jon could think of Val however he wanted, it mattered not to her. _Yes it does_.

"Did Stannis say anything else?"

"He gave his congratulations," Jon answered, "For the birth of Eddard."

"Which I am sure were as unemotional as can be." She replied, the smile falling from her face, "What are his chances, Jon?"

"He has the Mountain Clans, the Karstark's, the Umbers and the Mormonts." He said, "When the others learn of Eddard, they will join him."

That left the Ryswells and the Dustins on Roose's side, they were tied by blood, and perhaps his only true supporters. The Tallharts and the Cerwyns lost their lords and heirs to the war, and now were ruled by ladies. One a child and captive, the other an unmarried woman of three and ten. _Their houses would die with them_ , she thought, _just as House Hornwood died with Lady Donella_.

There were Tallhart cousin's, Brandon and Beren, though which was older she knew not. _One could marry Eddara, and a lesser lord would surely take Jonelle and the Cerwyn name_.

"And if they know it was Ramsay Snow who burned Winterfell," she said, "And killed Ser Rodrick's forces."

"Theon did that." Jon said through gritted teeth, "Who told you otherwise?"

"Lord Manderly." She answered, "He has one of Theon's squires."

"If you have spoken to Lord Manderly, then why did he not join Stannis?"

It was only then that she released that she had revealed the extent of her deceit, and wished that she did not find it so easy to forget herself when with Jon.

"Lord Manderly plans on turning cloak on the Bolton's, plans which will hopefully be spurred on by my son's birth." She explained, "Though, he of course does not make plans he thinks will not benefit him."

"And how does turning at the last moment benefit him?" Jon asked, "Stannis will take it as a slight."

"If I and Lord Manderly are instrumental in winning Winterfell, Stannis will not be able to oppose either of us." She said, "Eddard is only a babe, it will be eighteen years until he will rule. Who do you think will rule until then?"

"You." Jon said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world,

"I am a woman, and a foreigner, a fact not lost on the Northern lords." She said, "If we win, there will be a mad scramble for which lord will have the most influence over me. Manderly fears that Harlon will take the spot as top advisor, a spot he wishes to claim for himself."

"Should you not reward more loyal men?"

"Lord Manderly will be the most powerful northern lord. I will need him by my side." She said, "I agreed to betroth his granddaughter Wylla, to Willam, as a step of solidifying our alliance."

"But Willam is a lesser lord than Manderly." Jon pointed out, "It's hardly an equal match."

"Yes, but Willam is my step-son, and thus, kin to Eddard." She explained, "This way, the influence of the Flint's is tied with that of the Manderly's."

"And does Willam know about this?"

"Yes, I have told him." She said, "He seems to think well enough of it. He spent time with her as a child. I do hope it will be a happy marriage."

It seemed hypocritical of her to arrange Willam's marriage, when she herself had chosen both her husband's. But he understood that it was the way of nobility. He knew what his duty was.

"Why didn't you tell Stannis?"

Though there was no clear answer to his question, she knew she would have to offer him some sort of explanation.

"I do not trust Manderly to be good on his word," she said, "And did not wish for Stannis to hinge his plans on false hope."

There was some truth in it, though how much she did not know. _Perhaps I am punishing Stannis for his lack of trust in me_ , she mused, _or perhaps I just do not trust anyone anymore_.

"You should have told me." He bitterly replied, turning his back to her

 _And what would you have said to my deception, she thought, where is the honour in lies, after all? He would demand I tell Stannis and then where would I be_. No, a queen must keep her plans close to her chest, and shroud them when necessary.

"I'm sorry." Layla said, softly, "You are right. I should not keep things from you. I swear, I hide nothing else."

"But Jon, I would ask for more than your forgiveness." She continued, waiting until he looked upon her unguarded face before speaking further, "If I am to join Stannis, I must train. It has been too long since I have fought."

"Surely one of your men-"

"I would trust no other with this," she pleaded, "Jon, please, I need your help."

The sound of her desperation was more than enough to convince him. _If he resists further I will use Eddard as my excuse_ , she planned, _if he cares for our safety he will not deny me this_.

"Fine." He muttered, "I will see what I can do."

She might have thought it a victory, if he had spared her another glance before stalking from the room. _He will forgive me, how can he not_ , she assured herself, _all I do, I do for my son. He will understand, he must_.

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 **Response to review from Arianna Le Fay:**

 **If you want to see them together then read my story Dragon and Wolves, but right now that story's completely separate from this one, but the answer to if Dany's barren will be revealed in future chapters of that story.**

 **In this story, her and Jon may get together, they may not. You'll have to wait and see**

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 **Response to review from Billy:**

 **I think you might like the next chapter, because it addresses much of the issues between them. And I am aiming for it to come across as a but weird, because she's not really in a great place, and I don't want her to seem justified**

 **As of right now, her and Jon are not in love because they still love other people, and they definitely won't be getting together anytime soon. What may happen in the future, I can't say**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

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It seemed she had underestimated Jon's obstinacy, as he spent the next month avoiding her mere presence. Except for their training sessions, in which he would give her harsh instructions, the occasional compliment, but nothing more. Not even words of friendships, or the smallest smile.

"Good." He said, gruffly, "Again."

They continued to circle each other, parrying and blocking, until finally Jon had her backed against the wall with the wooden sword at her throat. Dropping both shield and sword to the ground she admitted defeat, only to look upon his face and see a drop of blood smeared against the corner of his lips.

"My apologies," she said, lifting up her hand to wipe it away, resting her palm against his cheek, "Though, if we were fighting to first blood, then it would be my victory."

"Yes, my lady." He nodded, averting his eyes, stepping away, leaving her hand clutching only air

But he would not continue to ignore her so.

"Will you ever forgive me?" She asked, latching on to his arm, "I do not know how much longer I can bear your silence."

"I have already forgiven you." He revealed,

"Then I ask that we renew our friendship."

"You ask too much," he replied, "You always ask for too much."

"And what exactly is it I ask that is too much?" She inquired, indignantly, "All I have asked of you is to be an uncle to your nephew. To protect us."

"No." Jon replied, "You ask me to be a father to your son. A husband to you. I swore never to be either."

 _And what if that is what I ask_ , she thought, _is it so wrong of me to want to be loved and cared for? Is it so wrong that I want to share this burden with another?_ The future of the Starks rested solely on her shoulders. For so long, she had been alone in her ventures. No other had understood, but she had hoped that Jon might.

"You are all I have, Jon."

"You have your step-sons, and Harlon," he pointed out, "Stannis, and your friends from the East."

"But they are not mine." She retorted, "My son and I are not their first priorities."

 _We had been Robb's, but he is gone_. Her gallant and noble husband had promised to protect their child, and with his death that left only her to shield Eddard from harm. The Gods were cruel to give her love and hope, only to snatch it away. _Bolton would steal my son from my breast_ , she thought, _just as Elia Martell's son had been_.

But she had no powerful family to avenge her. Her and her son could die and none would blink an eye.

 _If Robb were here, he would take me in his arms, and tell me that everything would be alright_. A lie, but a sweet one.

"You can never be my first priority." He said, gently, his eyes soft

It was a truth, but a harsh one.

"Why can't you just lie to me?" She asked, shaking her head, "Why must you always make things hard for me?"

"You think this is easy for me?" He demanded, "When has anything been easy for me?"

"No. Nothing's ever been easy for you, or me, or anyone else because the Gods love to play their wicked games." She said, "And find joy in our suffering."

Silence followed as her words settled in, for they both knew she spoke the truth. Too much had been taken from them. _He lost a lover too_ , she thought, _he knows grief as intimately as I_. _But if he does not break, then nor will I_. She had to be strong, not only for her son, but for herself. It was only by spite that she had lived this long, and her pride would not let her fall apart now.

 _I will not be my mother_ , she told herself, _I will not let lose myself. I will not abandon my child. Not for the longings for a man now gone_.

"Now that you know what love is," she said with surprising cheer, "Did you ever love me?"

"I don't think so." He answered, "Not like I loved Ygritte. Not like you loved Robb."

"When Robb and I wed, I was not as deeply in love as you seem to believe." She replied, much to his surprise, "If we had longer, then I'm sure I would have fallen more in love. He was such a good man."

 _Too good for you_ , she told herself, _he loved you with all his heart, and you killed him all the same_.

"Aye." Jon agreed, "He was."

"What was she like, Ygritte?" Layla asked, "You never told me about her. Not really."

"She was red-headed, the Free Folk call it kissed by fire," he answered, his lips pulling into a small smile, "She was a spear wife, and more skilled with a bow than most men."

"She sounds fearsome." Layla replied, "I wish I could have met her."

"So do I."

Was love worth the grief that came when it was lost? Did those few sweet moments make up for so many nights alone? _Mother told me to never love a man because they never stay_ , she remembered, _whatever the reason, the end would always come_.

"Let me share some wisdom with you, Jon, great love affairs are overrated." She advised, "My great-grandparents thought they had a love worth the songs."

 _My mother had thought the same, and so had I once._

"Why?" He asked, clearly surprising she spoke so willingly about her family

 _He knows nothing about my family_ , she realized, _he knows nothing of where I come from_.

"My great-grandfather was a prince of the Summer Isles, my great-grandmother was a Lyseni bed slave." She explained, "He was visiting Lys, they fell in love so he freed her, married her, and brought her home with him."

And though his family had not approved of his commoner wife, her profession had not brought her their scorn. Not as it would have done had he been Westerosi.

"What happened then?"

"He brought her to a place she knew nothing of, and tried to make a whore a noblewoman." She answered, "They loved each other, yes, but she returned to Essos after his death, to live in Myr with her daughter who married a Myrish noble."

The Summer Isles held no place for Nessa as a widow, just as Layla herself still felt a foreigner in the North. Something strange and out of place. At least when her great-grandmother had returned, she did so as a royal widow, and not a former slave.

"She once told me that a slave has no home, and even when she was a noble she was still a slave." Layla continued, "We cannot escape what we are."

"What happened to her?" He asked. _He wants to learn as much as he can whilst he can. He knows I may never speak like this again_.

"She married a Myrish nobleman, then a Braavosi merchant," she replied, "And now she is a very wealthy woman."

 _And a thrice widow_ , she thought, _perhaps that will be my own fate_. History does so like to repeat itself. _After all_ , she thought, _the women in my family are a great mix of whores and noble wives_.

* * *

 **I've posted a story that consists of one-shots of Layla's first visit at Winterfell, you can find it on my profile titled 'Times at Winterfell'**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners**

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Layla stood beside Jon, cradling Eddard in her arms, Willam and Rickard to her other side. Behind her stood her guards as well Greywind, creating a foreboding presence. Selyse would not like that, but they had refused to leave her side since Eddard's birth.

The Queen was just as Layla remembered her to be, from that brief time they spent together at Eastwatch. A haughty woman, who clung so desperately to her title. And why would she not, for it was all she had. No real power was granted to her. She was the queen of a king without a kingdom, one who did not suffer her presence.

 _I can understand why_ , she thought, _Selsye is an intolerable woman_. Still, she pitied the woman.

"Your Grace," she greeted, curtsying as much as she could with a child in her arms, "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"You have given birth, I see." Selyse said, "Boy or girl."

"A son."

It was clear to Layla that this news caused confliction to the Queen. A son would help in Stannis' goals, but it only reminded her that she had not given a son to her own husband. The king's only heir was a girl, and one with afflicted with greyscale at that. Though, she had seemed a pleasant child to Layla, much more pleasant than either of her parents.

"He is the rightful lord of Winterfell, Stannis will see to that for your loyalty." Selyse said, "His name?"

"Eddard."

The introductions of the lords meant little to her, though she made sure to smile at each of them. She had met them before at Eastwatch, and found them similarly insufferable. What did interest her, however, was the fact they were joined by a Braavosi banker. _If he were here that meant one thing_ , she realized, _the Lannisters had failed to pay their debts_. Perhaps it was time for another to earn such a reputation.

But the Iron Bank were dangerous backers, that she knew, and not to be taken lightly. _It had to be Cersei's doing_ , she thought, _Tywin Lannister would not be so imprudent._ Of course, that left her to wonder how indisposed the Lord of Casterly Rock must be for that insipid fool to be ruling.

Though she paid little mind to the others, she could not help but watch the fool they had brought with him. Melisandre had spoken of her dislike of the boy, and it was the one thing Layla agreed upon with the sorceress. There was something disquieting about Patchface, though she felt for his circumstances.

"In the dark the dead are dancing," Patchface sung, "I know, I know, oh, oh, oh."

As much as she tried to convince herself it was nothing more than a merry tune, she could not help but wonder if there was a warning behind his words.

Once the party had set off to their new quarters, the ones that Layla had been forced to vacate to make room for them, she returned to her own new room. Jon had moved them into the tower for the Lord Commander, though it remained a burnt husk on the upper levels. Still, she would rather her privacy then to have the Queen's prying eyes watching over her.

It was in her room that Jon called on her later that day, much to her surprise, for he had not come to her private chambers since their last argument. The tension had lessened between them, though there were still moments of unease, but perhaps that was due to how little she saw the Lord Commander.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, gesturing to give Taenella leave

"Alys Karstark just arrived here," he informed her, "Looking for me."

"Rickard Karstark's daughter?" She asked, he nodding in response, "But why?"

"Her uncle seeks to force her into marriage, so that he may lay claim to Karhold." Jon explained, "She asks for my help."

"But her brother's still alive," she replied, "At least last I heard he was."

"He's a prisoner of the Lannisters." He said, "Arnolf Karstark hoped that by declaring for Stannis, he would be killed. He had planned to betray Stannis to the Bolton's."

"We must get word to him." She said, hastily standing up

"I have already sent a raven." Jon said, holding out a hand to calm her, "That's the best we can do right now. Neither you nor Eddard are fit to travel yet."

She knew it was the truth, but it did nothing to ease the feeling of helplessness that had haunted her these past months. Stannis' campaign, her campaign, was in danger and there was nothing she could do.

"But what does Alys Karstark want from you?" Layla asked, "The only way to stop Arnolf from forcibly marrying her, is to marry her to someone else. Why would she come to the Nights Watch for that?" She asked, "Its not exactly like you have a surplus of eligible bachelors."

"No. But perhaps we might take Stannis idea." He replied, "And its Cregan Karstark who wants to marry her."

"I did not learn the Northern family trees intimately enough to know who that is." She told him, "But who is it exactly that you plan on wedding her to?"

"One of the Free Folk." He answered, "I had thought the Magnar of Thenn. They would take to our ways easiest."

"The way of kneelers you mean." She said with a slight smile, "Alright. Tell me why this is a good idea."

"The Magnar has men, which Lady Alys will need to take back Karhold." Jon explained, "It'll be a step towards bringing the Free Folk into the realm."

"I think it's a wonderful idea, if all parties consent. Though there is one rather obvious problem." Layla said, clutching her hands in front of her, "If you arrange this marriage it will be seen as you meddling in the affairs of the realm." She explaimed, "Let me take the credit. They will not doubt my right to make the arrangement."

"The Northern lords may not like you wedding Alys Karstark to a wildling." He warned, "It could be just as dangerous for you."

"It's a risk I must take." She said, "It'll give my leadership legitimacy, and hopefully grant me a sorely needed ally. Though I do not know how well she'll respond to me, given I watched as her father had his head hacked off."

"If she does not begrudge me, she will not begrudge you." He assured her, "I will speak with the Magnar, you speak to Alys, and I pray that this works."

"It seems we have an arrangement," she smiled, "Lord Commander."

But when he made to leave she called out his name, causing him to turn back to cast his eyes upon her concerned face.

"Is it growing warming?"

"Yes." He confirmed, "The snows are moving south."

"Towards Stannis."

"Most likely."

They both knew that did not bode well for the march, though Jon was resigned to his inability to affect nature. But she was not so content. And so, once he had gone, she searched her belongings for a book she had not read in many moons. It had what she needed, just as she knew it would. Of course, there would be a cost, there was always a cost. And she did not know if it was one she was willing to pay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

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Alys Karstark looked every bit the radiant bride as she wed the wildling, who himself looked every bit the warrior in his bronze armor. The ceremony was fascinating to her, as she had never actually witnessed a wedding of R'hollor, and for such a vicious god it was rather heartfelt. More complicated than wedding in the eyes of the Old Gods, but not more so than the New.

 _Perhaps that will be my next wedding_ , she thought, _Stannis would probably order it to be so_.

There would be another wedding, there had to be. The Asshai'i told her there would be. _One for ambition, one for duty, one for love_. Another husband, another bedmate. _Seven lovers you shall have_.

Once the ceremony was finished they all gathered in the hall for the feast, Eddard had thankfully refrained from crying, simply gurgling away in her arms, reaching up to clasp his small hands around the gem of her mother's necklace. _A red gem, Melisandre would like that_. After taking leave to feed him, he fell soundly asleep, and Taenella offered to put him to put him to bed and ask one of the wet nurses the clans had brought to feed him later that night. Even though she preferred to be the one to nurse her son, she was thankful for the brief reprieve from motherhood.

As soon as the dancing began men had been practically clambering over themselves to ask her. She had obliged them of course, it would not do to offend any of Stannis' men nor the Queen. It had three moons since Eddard's birth and much of her weight had been lost, and though she was slighter than before she still maintained her womanly figure.

Ser Brus was a rather kind man, much more so than the rest of the Queen's Men, and so she did not begrudge to dance with him. Ser Alester was a pompous bore who made thinly veiled hints at his desire to see her wed to one of Stannis' loyal companions. Ser Patrek was an awful man with a severe entitlement complex, not to mention a barely hidden desire for blood and glory.

Though it had become more tolerable after she delved into a few cups of wine.

Willam had followed her lead, and, with encouragement from his uncle, asked the young princess for a dance. Shireen had blushed and giggled as they danced, and Layla was glad that she was happy, even if the older boy was only doing her a kindness. Rickard was less forward, given he was still at an age where girls were of no interest, but did not refuse when she asked, and neither did his uncle.

Once she had done her duty and danced with the knights, she gave Ulmer the honour of taking her on a spin around the dance floor. He was one of the kinder brothers of the Watch, entertaining her with stories of his past as an outlaw. Many of the others set her skin on edge.

As much as she has grown to like Jon's steward, she did not think it wise to dance with him, given how Ser Patrek's murderous gaze followed Satin. Instead, she returned to her place beside the Lord Commander. Even though it may have been perceived as a slight by the Queen, Layla was sure she could curry back into Selyse's favour. She wished to spend the celebrations with people she actually liked.

"Dance with me Jon," she said into his ear, perhaps more seductive than she intended given how his arm tensed where her hand had settled, causing her to remove it

"I couldn't," he started, but she was not going to given in to his empty excuses

"You are Lord Commander, so don't claim you are unworthy." She replied, "Come on, you cannot deny your good-sister this."

Resigned, he rose with her, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor. They were both acutely aware of the stares they were receiving, but Layla could not find it in herself to care. The others, both men of the Night's Watch and those loyal to Stannis, already whispered behind their backs.

Many presumed that Jon had taken his brother's widow to bed. It was not the truth, and they both knew that. Maybe she had held affection for him before, but he was not the boy she knew, and she was not the girl he thought she had been. And she was still Robb's wife to him, and he just as much belonged to his wildling love.

 _Two dead lovers_. _Perhaps they were cursed_.

He was surprisingly graceful, though she had never actually seen him dance before. Lady Catelyn had always forbidden him from feasts, and even when she insisted on his presence he never seemed to enjoy them. Alys was right, he was sullen.

"Thank you," she said, "For this."

"I know you like to dance." He said, awkwardly, "Did you dance at your wedding?"

"There was no feast when I married Robb, so no dancing." She told him, "Just vows, consummation and praying that the Gods would make Walder Frey forgiving."

If the mention of consummating her marriage had not killed the moment enough, then bringing up Robb's death was the final stab wound. Perhaps that was why the men had stared when she danced, given how her husband had been murdered. _Maybe I should have requested the Rains of Castamere_ , she thought, _that would have truly been a spectacle_.

"Excuse me," she said, not waiting for the song to end to return to the table to drown herself in wine

Which seemed like a good idea at the time, but perhaps had not been, especially when she giggled whenever spoken to, knocked over two cups of drink, and made vivid remarks to Alys about her own sexual experiences. It was the last part that had Jon suggesting he walk her to her room.

And so she rose, clutching on to his arm to keep herself stable, allowing him to lead her away from the feast. Laughing all the way, she stumbled into her room, Jon watching her with disapproval.

"You find my actions distasteful." She stated, turning to look at him, "I do suppose they are not befitting a lady."

"I do not presume to judge you." He replied, "Was it because of what I said?"

But that was not a question she could acknowledge let alone admit to.

"Do you still miss her?" She asked, "Ygritte?"

The question clearly took him aback, for he did not respond immediately. _If he can remind me of Robb then I will remind him of her_.

"Yes." He finally answered, "Very much."

"You know," Layla said, with a wistful smile, "I had a forbidden love myself, once." She told him, "We wanted to marry, but his father wouldn't allow it, and he wouldn't run away with me."

"So you know what I did." She continued, leaning towards him with a wicked grin, "I ran away by myself. And I never stopped running."

"That sounds like a hard way to live."

"Surviving's not an easy feat."

Collapsing down on to the bed, rolling over on to her back to stare up him with doe eyes. Her hair was spread across the bed, having allowed the curls their freedom rather than trapping them in a braid. _He likes my hair like this_ , she thought, _no, no, no_ , she reprimanded herself, _do not think of him, not now, not ever_.

"Do you forgive me Jon?"

"You know I already have."

"No, not for wanting to fuck you." She said, almost absentmindedly, ignoring him averting his gaze from his own, "For killing your brother."

"That wasn't your fault." He assured her, offering her a soft look, "You couldn't have known."

"But I did," she objected, "I knew it would be bad and I did it anyway. Because I'm selfish," she told him, "I'm selfish, just like my parents."

"No you're not." He responded, but she did not care for his false reassurances. She knew herself better than anyone, and she knew what she was. She was selfish and spiteful. She always had been.

"You know, I used to watch my mother weep for my father. A man who I only met once." She suddenly revealed, though she was not sure if she was talking to Jon or herself, "When I was child. The sound woke me, to find him screaming at my mother, breaking what little furniture we had. She never told me his name."

But she would never forget him. That rageful man with golden eyes who had haunted her since childhood.

"I don't think I've ever wept for Robb," she realized, "I killed him, and I've never even cried."

 _I've had to be strong for so long_ , she thought, _I want to be able to weep_.

But then she thought of the Vale, though she had never been there herself, and of the waterfall there. _If Alyssa Arryn did not shed a tear than nor would I_ , she told herself, _my tears will freeze on my cheeks, turn to ice, like a true queen of winter_.

"You should go back to the feast." She advised, with her usual indifference, "They might be wondering where you are."

"Will you be okay?"

"I'm always okay."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

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Val's return might have brought relief to Jon, but it was the news of her brother's imminent arrival that brought joy to her. Leo was only her step-brother, truth be told, but they had grown close when she sought refuge in his father's house, and it would be the first time she laid eyes on any of her own family in many years.

It was perhaps the longest wait of her life, that period between the announcement of the party's oncoming and their actual arrival. The years had brought little change to her brother, though his chest and arms had thickened with muscle and the ghost of a beard grew. He still had his tanned skin, dark brooding eyes, and light brown hair.

But his appearance did not shock her half as much as who dismounted his horse beside him. He was tall and strong, with hair so light it looked silver, in stark contrast with his skin darkened by the sun and laughing brown eyes.

As soon as their eyes met she could not stop the smile that spread over her face, or the girlish giggle he elicited when he grabbed her by her waist, effortlessly spinning her around in the air.

"Rytsas, dona haedora," he whispered, setting her back down, "Oh how I've missed you."

Even when he spoke the Common Tongue, the Myrish seeped through his voice, far more so than it did in her own. She had worked hard to hide the sounds that marked her as foreign, separated her from the rest.

"Daerys," she greeted, "What are you doing here?"

"He was visiting when I received your raven," her brother explained, stepping to their side, "He demanded to come."

That was not a surprise to her, when Daerys wanted something he tended to get it.

"Lekia." She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him, "It has been too long."

"On that we can agree." He replied, "Now, where is my nephew?"

Waving towards Taenella, the woman walked forwards holding out the babe to Leo, who eagerly took him into his arms.

"He looks like you." Leo commented, "Except for his eyes. His father's?" Layla nodded in response, "You said his name is Eddard, a Westerosi name?"

"It was Robb's father's name." She answered, "Lord Stark was a good man. We wanted to honour him."

"No other family members you wished to honour?" Daerys asked, with his devilish grin, "I had hoped you would name a son for me."

 _Perhaps if you had given me one I would have_.

"I have other family members more worthy of such an honour." She replied, smiling sweetly at him

"You wound me."

"And I am sure it is grievous."

"Yes." He agreed, "Odres meri ao kostagon maghagon"

She could not quell the indignation that grew with his words, though her face remained stony. _He will not see my anger_ , she told herself, _it will only grant him the justification he desires_.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Leo asked, nodding his head towards Jon, who had been standing behind her

"Yes," Layla said, "This is Lord Commander Jon Snow."

"The hospitality of Castle Black is yours," Jon offered, "For as long as you need it."

"We will leave as soon as possible," Leo said, "Just long enough for the men to rest."

"And how many men do you have with you?" Jon asked

"Five hundred."

"Where did you get that many men?" She asked, incredulously

"My father paid for sellswords." Leo explained, "Daerys brought more with him. We have food enough for them, and more."

"How many mounted?"

"Half."

"It'll take you a month to get to Winterfell." Jon told them, "You might not make it in time."

"We have to try."

Though, if she had her way she would send her brother and cousin home that instant, and proceed with their men. There was no guarantee that either of them would live to return to their homes, and she could not be the reason they were torn from their families.

"Jon," she said, "Would you show us to where the men will be staying?"

"Your brother, and,"

"Cousin." She finished, failing to further elaborate on their shared history

"Can stay with you in the Lord Commander's Tower." He told them, "Their men can stay in the Grey Keep."

"Well then," she said, "Lead the way."

As they trudged behind the Lord Commander, Layla fell into step with her brother, who still held Eddard in his arms. Daerys trailed behind them, though she felt his stares on her.

"How does our family fare?" She asked, "Issa muñnykeā se dubys?"

"They are all quite well." Leo assured her, "They are happy and healthy. And long to see you."

But she would never return to Essos, that she knew for certain. Lys had been her birthplace, but she had fled from there. Braavos was the home of her first caregiver, and now that of her mother, but never her own. In Myr she had found a home in her grandmother's house once, but not any longer. _I have no home, no place in this world, but my son will_. _Winterfell and the North will be his_.

"I share such a longing." She replied, "You and Daerys seem...familiar."

"I will not lie and say we just met." Leo said, "He came to my father's house looking for you, a month, perhaps, after you left, all those years ago."

"Then he was a month too late."

Their procession inside Castle Black did not go unnoticed, with Melisandre watching them with interest from a window of the King's Tower. As he eyes moved their gaze from Leo to Daerys, Layla tensed, having to fight the urge to shield him from Melisandre's hungry gaze.

"A Red Priestess?" Leo asked, "The Lord Commander's, or this king?"

"Queen Selyse is a convert, and an ardent one at that." She remarked, "Melisandre undegon mirres isse se perzyssy."

"Ponta ry pendagon bona."

Later that night they all gathered together in the common hall. The Queen had wanted a feast, no doubt to impress the new arrivals, but the Lord Commander had vetoed it. Even without having to feed the visiting soldiers, the stores of Castle Black would not last long with such careless opulence.

Though, she would have much rathered the Queen and her men not be present, for it seemed each of them strived to be the most offensive towards her brother and cousin. Not that she was surprised. She had learned that the Westerosi were not accepting to foreigners, and neither Leo nor Daerys had acquiesced her request to speak only the Common Tongue.

"Māzigon sir, raqiarzy." Daerys said, jovially, "Skoro syt gaomagon ao daor ȳzaldrīzes aōha muñnykeā ēngos?"

"Kesrio syt daor mēre shifangus."

"Tell me, Lord Commander," Daerys said, "What of Valyrian do you know?"

"Precious little." Jon replied, "I am afraid not many in Westeros speak it."

"And yet us in Essos know the Common Tongue."

"Perhaps that is why it's named such." Jon suggested, causing Daery's lips to quirk up on one side

"I've never heard you speak Valyrian." He remarked, turning towards her, "Why?"

"There was no one to speak it to." Layla shrugged, "And it is not Valyrian, truth be told. There is High Valyrian, and Bastard or Low Valyrian." She explained, "Each of the Free Cities has its own version, different enough that learning one is not learning two. And then Slaver's Bay has a different dialect as well."

"And you speak them all?"

"More all less." She answered, "Growing up I spent time either in each Free City, or with someone who was from there." She told him, "Though, I know perhaps only a few words of Lorathi, and Qohori."

"What of the rest of the East?" Jon asked, "There is more than the Free Cities."

"I have some level of competence in the Summer Tongue." She replied, "A few sentences in Dothraki. Trade talk."

"Trade talk?"

"It's a meshing of many different languages, as well as hand gestures. It's mainly used on the docks, hence the name." She told him, "Most of it actually consists of insults."

"You will have to teach the Lord Commander," Daerys said, "So that he may understand us."

"I'm sure the Lord Commander is too busy for lessons." Leo said, his eyes glaring with warning, "Gaomagon daor provoke zirȳla"

"Nyke jāhor dōrī"

* * *

 **Rytsas dona haedora** = hello, sweet cousin

 **Lekia** = older brother

 **Odresa** = painful

 **Odres meri ao kostagon maghagon** = pain only you can bring

 **Issa muñnykeā se dubys** = my mother and siblings

 **Melisandre undegon mirres isse se perzyssy** = Melisandre sees things in the flames

 **Ponta ry pendagon bona** = they all think that

 **Māzigon sir raqiarzy. Skoro syt gaomagon ao daor ȳzaldrīzes aōha muñnykeā ēngos?** = come now, beloved. Why do you not speak your mother tongue?

 **Kesrio syt daor mēre shifangus** = because no one understands

 **Gaomagon daor provoke zirȳla** = do not provoke him

 **Nyke jāhorus dōrī** = I would never


	15. Chapter 15

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Leo and Daerys had been guests at Castle Black for barely a week before they were readying for their departure. For this Layla was incredibly thankful, not because it brought her closer to winning back Winterfell, but that it would put great distance between them and the Queen and her men. The southern lords had taken every opportunity to antagonise the foreigners, and as much control as her brother had, it was not shared by her cousin. Not to mention Daerys constant japing towards the Lord Commander, who neither returned nor enjoyed the banter.

As she packed Daerys sat watching on her bed, having never unpacked there was little he needed to ready. Taenella had offered to assist, but Layla had instead ordered her to entertain the babe.

"I am glad we are leaving," she said, "You are not safe here."

"Why?" Daerys asked, "Because the Lord Commander does not like the way I look at his Lekia's abrazyors?"

"No, because of the Lady Melisandre." She replied, "She's a Red Priestess with an interest in king's blood."

"Ha." Daerys barked with laughter, "Se ao zūgagon syt issa, because some ancestor of mine fucked a Targaryen, or a Targaryen bastard, or a Targaryen bastard's bastard. Tell her I am from Lys, that is our usual excuse."

"She sees things in her fire." Layla said, "I fear she will uncover our secrets."

"Should you not also be afraid, then?" He asked, "Ao emagon dārys's ānogar, closer than I."

"I don't think Melisandre counts Princes of the Summer Isles." She said, absentmindedly, "Though, she does seem to have an all-encompassing definition."

"Is that why you are sending your tresy away?" Daerys asked, "Will he be safe with Lady Alys?"

"He will be safe if he is far away from Melisandre."

"Ao issi nykeā sȳrkta muñnykeā pāre aōhon."

It was the truth, and they both knew it. But she could not let him think he could speak of such things to her.

"Do not speak of her that way." Layla warned, "She is not your mother."

"If your mother had not been a whore we could have wed."

"No." She countered, "It was your father's arrogance, and your cowardice."

"You would have had me ran away with you, leave my muñnykeā se haedor in my kepa's grip." He argued, "And to become what? I hardly think you would have prospered in your travels if you could not seduce men to shower you with their wealth."

"What would you have done if I had?"

"I would have cut down any man who dared to look at you." He promised her, and she did not doubt the truth of his words, "When I had heard you married, I wanted to sail across the Narrow Sea to challenge your husband to a duel for you. But I knew you would kill me if I did."

She did not need to ask how discovered her first marriage, after all, it had been her grandmother she had written to for a dowry. _And what a large dowry it was_.

"Which marriage?" She asked, "Roderick or Robb?"

"The first. I commend you on the second." He said, "Seducing a king into forgoing his betrothal. Well done, haedora."

"I did not seduce him." She snapped back, "He was an honourable man, who married me because he got me with child."

"And how was that not planned?" He asked, "You, who has always been so careful to take her moon tea."

"We were at war, there was no moon tea." She explained, "And when I could get my hands on some, his mother found out, and told him I was with child."

"He must have been an honourable man." Daerys acknowledged, "Most noble lords would have simply cast you aside."

"Robb was not like most men."

"I can see that."

"I had thought perhaps you had planned to get me with child," she said, "When you took my maidenhead, to force the issue of marriage."

Until he had presented her with moon tea once their tryst was over, ever so gently explaining how their union could never bear any fruit. He may have spoke them, but they were his father's words.

"My father would not have allowed it even if you carried my child."

"I know that now." She agreed, "And even then, I knew that you were to wed a noble lady. But I do not think you would have loved me had I been raised a noble lady." She stated, "You would not have wanted a naive maiden."

"You were a Mittyas riñnykeā when I fell in love with you." _Not enough of one for a lord_ , she thought. "And who says I do not still love you?" He asked, "Issa prūmia iksos aōhon." He told her, bringing her hand to press it over his chest, "Ao?"

"Daor." She replied, pulling her hand back, "You cannot have my heart. It would not be smart."

"And that is all you care about now." He retorted, standing up, looking at her with hard eyes, "Rinitos."

"I am not a child." She snapped back

"No." He conceded, lifting his hand up to cup her cheek, "A zoklitsos now."

"Do you have a wife?" She asked, "You are five-and-twenty, your father would have made you wed."

"Issa kepa morghūltan lanta jēdri arlī." He told her, "I would have come to you, but you were married."

"You should have married me when you had the chance."

"Yes." He agreed, "I would have only you for my abrazyrs."

It took everything on her not to push him from her and expel him from her heart. _I have never been your wife_ , she thought, _and I never will be_. But he was there, and he was willing, and he was everything she needed.

So she let him press his lips to hers, dropping the cloak to the ground, leaving her in only a shift. Pulling herself from the kiss, she pushed him back down on to the bed. _I am a maiden no longer_. Grabbing her thighs he pulled her down to straddle his lap, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Let your hair out." He ordered, and she obliged, allowing the curls to fall free. _He loves my hair out_.

"Take your shirt off." She ordered back, and he too obliged

Moving his hand under her dress, she gripped onto his shoulder as he slipped his fingers inside of her. He grinned when she let out a moan, practically gleeful that he could still elicit such a reaction from her.

Removing his fingers, he pushed the shift up her body, before she pulled it over her head. Lifting her up, he laid her back down on the bed, standing in front of her with his hungry eyes devouring her body. She had grown into even more of a woman in the five years since he had last seen her body, and motherhood had done little to wear it down.

Pulling at the laces of his breeches, they were soon on the floor, and then his naked body was on her own, and he was inside her. It had been so long since she had been with a man, so she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer as he thrust inside of her.

He buried his head in her neck as he finished, spilling his seed inside of her, whispering sweet words for only her to hear. And for a moment, as she held him in her arms she could pretend that the years had not passed, and she was five-and-ten once more with all her dreams in tact.

"I have moon tea." She told him, "You won't have to worry."

"Maybe I wanted to get you with child." He suggested, rolling off of her, "But that would not be smart."

"No," she agreed, "It wouldn't."

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 **Lekia's abrazyors** = brother's widow

 **Se ao zūgagon syt issa** = And you fear for me

 **Ao emagon dārys's ānogar** = You have king's blood

 **Tresy** = son

 **Ao issi nykeā sȳrkta muñnykeā pāre aōhon** = You are a better mother than yours

 **Muñnykeā se haedor** = mother and younger sister

 **Kepa** = father

 **M** **ittyas riñnykeā** = naive maiden

 **Issa prūmia iksos aōhon** = My heart is yours

 **Ao** = you

 **Daor** = no

 **Rinitos** = little girl

 **Zoklītsos** = little wolf

 **Issa kepa morghūltan lanta jēdri arlī** = my father died two years back

 **Abrazyrs** = wife


End file.
